Marcia Eldon
by Mariag Brie
Summary: One shot. Why there aren't girls in the Slytherin Quidditch Team? Features Snape in his early years as a professor.


Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

_MARCIA ELDON_

_Hellebores have been very popular in the science of potion making. Hellebores are poisonous so it is very important to take care while using them in a concoction (unless the concoction was venom, in which case we don't really have to worry about it__!). Hellebores work great as purgatives and are one of the most common ingredients in calming concoctions._

Snape reread the last paragraph again. The essay was ridiculously short and overlooked lots of important facts about the use of hellebores. The handwriting was painfully flourished to his sight in a dungeon only illuminated by a few miserable candles. Finally, he decided a three would be more than what it deserved so he wrote a red, tiny zero.

Severus Snape massaged his greasy forehead and wished, for the twentieth time that week, to be dead.

Being a teacher at Hogwarts was not how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. He hated kids. He told Dumbledore he was willing to do anything, everything, except return to the school. And yet, in spite of this petition, Dumbledore ordered him to go back to the place he most loathed.

Anyhow, it wasn't that he had many choices, really. Being a reformed Death Eater didn't opened doors in the Wizarding World.

He proceeded reading more essays, most of them full of barbaric nonsense.

When asked about his students he didn't have many good things to say. Most of them were useless prats who thought that a few lines of poor research would be enough to score an acceptable grade. He knew them very well; he studied Hogwarts six years ago with the same kind of people.

Snape started teaching at Hogwarts when he was barely twenty years. After that fatal Halloween, he was depressed and miserable –and he still was, but nothing that couldn't be handled with some cups of firewhisky and few sips of Draught of Peace.

In his first year as the Potions Master there were many students that knew him from his school years. Most of them weren't stupid enough to try to remember him how he had been the boring and bitter victim of some amusing pranks. Only the most defiant dared to accuse him of being involved with the Dark Lord.

Of course, after the Dark Lord's downfall the vast majority of them forgot about him. There were much more important things to care about than he. He was Professor Snape, a right bastard and a worse teacher, but he was on Dumbledore's side.

Wasn't he?

There was a knock in his door and he mentally cursed whoever came at these hours to bother him with what he was sure would be stupidities.

"Come in" he said aloud.

The door cracked and a boy entered. He was tall, stout and was dressed in Slytherin robes.

"Good evening, Professor" he approached with a forced smile.

Snape briefly eyed him. Berthild Digter, a six year student, who had quite a few muscles but no brains.

"It's past curfew, Digter. What is so important that you are risking detention and House points?" Snape told the boy without looking from his papers. He was by no way going to take points from his own house, but a little fear wouldn't do bad to Berthild's head.

"Sorry Professor, I wanted to talk to you earlier but we had Quidditch practice in the afternoon. There's someone who's applying for the beater post…"

This finally made Snape to look up directly at Berthild's face. Berthild Digter was undoubtedly an idiot, as were most of the Quidditch players Snape had known.

Although Snape has never being good at broom riding, his interest in the topic had risen since he became a teacher at Hogwarts. It was like he was _winning_ through the Slytherin Quidditch team.

And it was quite childish, indeed, because the only person Snape really wanted to outperform was already dead.

"I'd like to have your approval before letting anyone into the team, sir" told him Berthild. Snape needn't Legillimens to know that he was lying. Naturally, Berthild didn't give two fucks about his opinion, but he had to ask it anyway. Reviewing the players was one old tradition that Slytherin House had held for centuries.

Snape Accioed a few bottles with a flick of his wand and made appear a chair and a rusty scale in the middle of his office.

"Quickly Digter. I have got plenty of work tonight," he said this returning to his papers.

The door cracked again when another person entered.

"Name?" Snape asked while drawing another red zero in one of the essays.

"Marcia Eldon"

Snape looked up from his papers for the second time in less than five minutes. Next to Berthild was a tall girl.

"She's a girl" said Berthild idiotically.

"How observent of you, Digter!" Snape couldn't hold the comment back another second

Berthild looked at Marcia with displeasure

"I'm sure I will fit in team, Professor" said the girl. Snape examined her and perceived she was determined to be accepted where it was obvious she was not welcomed. Why on earth was this happening tonight? He definitely needed a cup of whisky.

"You must be the first girl in centuries who applies for a position in the Quidditch team, do you realize it? The rules weren't made to allow girls and most of the girls aren't interested in playing" Snape voiced tiredly.

"I'm well prepared, sir. Is Berthie who doesn't want me in _his_ team" She said angrily.

"Look Marcia, we'll find another beater soon, okay? I don't really see the point of this…you can't even undress for the revision!" Berthild said with a note of scorn in his voice.

"I don't have any problem with undressing, Berthie. My only problem is Charlie Weasley, who's going to defeat us in the next match if you don't let me play." The girl started taking off her shoes, then her robes and finally stood on top of the scale with only a short white camisole covering her.

Berthild Digter looked astonished and Snape found himself thrown off guard; the girl seemed unconcerned by being garmentless in front of them.

Decided to do something quickly before the bloody kids started a scene, he took a pen and a piece of parchment.

Then he watched the weight that marked the scale and wrote it down.

Marcia was very thin, looked flexible and agile and _Thank Merlin!_ had almost non-existent breasts. And then, under the poor light of the candlelight, Snape noticed that she also had long, thick, dark red hair. He had only seen a similar mane on one other person who, just as everyone once related to Snape, ended up dead.

He suddenly felt a pang in his stomach.

"How old are you?" he managed to ask with an unusual dryness in his throat.

"Fourteen" Marcia answered looking straight to his eyes and Snape abruptly turned his gaze to Berthild, wishing he could hide somewhere.

"That's all. You will start playing as a beater and I do not want to hear another word about this. Not a single one, Digter." He flicked his wand, there was a faint breeze and Marcia was dressed again.

Snape urged them outside his office, closed the door and locked it. For a few minutes he stood next to the door feeling slightly sick. Then he took a bottle of firewhisky from his cupboard, poured some in a glass and drank it at once.

And again, he secretly wished to be dead.

---  
Thanks to my beta.  
**Review** please, I'd really like to know your opinion.


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